


Things You Said That I Wish You Hadn't

by MrsSaxon



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: ALWAYS A BAD SIGN, Angst, Heartbreak, I'm Sorry, Just... just why, M/M, Now I really mean it, Premature I love yous, Remember how I said that before?, Season 2, Why do my babies hurt each other so, bad decision making, season OF PAIN, season where EVERYTHING HURTS, upsetting, why did I write this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2016-03-18
Packaged: 2018-05-27 10:51:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6281674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsSaxon/pseuds/MrsSaxon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part of the 'Things You Said...' series. Prompted by anonymous.</p><p>Will is nowhere near ready to forgive Hannibal, but Hannibal cannot contain himself. A tenuous peace goes from bad to THERE IS NO REASON TO CONTINUE LIVING.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things You Said That I Wish You Hadn't

Will exhaled, deliberately, “Is that it?”

Hannibal stood under his porch light, shaken, unsteady, still heaving with the momentum of what he’d come to say. His head turned slowly, as if he hadn’t quite heard Will’s answer.

“I lo-”

“I didn’t ask you to repeat it,” Will snapped.

Hannibal stopped, withdrawing in the subtle curl of his fingers, the lifting of his shoulders. He regarded Will for the first time like he had something to be afraid of.

“Is that it, you didn’t answer my question,” Will repeated impatiently.

Hannibal’s lips pressed in a thin, hard line. He swallowed, “Yes.”

“And you expect some kind of reciprocation?”

Silence. A long, held breath, left to grow stale in the mouth. “No.”

“But you came anyway, to see in person what my reaction would be?” Will took a deliberate step forward, into Hannibal’s space, facing defiantly up into his eyes.

Will didn’t need an answer, his unblinking eyes told him just as much, “A phone call would have done you just as well. I’m not interested.”

Hannibal’s frozen mask suddenly broke. He lurched into Will’s space, “Will, let me-”

“Don’t. touch me.” his voice was soft, inflection almost forgiving. Like he realized Hannibal was just a poor, dumb animal, too stupid to realize the consequences of its actions. But underneath it Will’s anger was as cold as the night around them. 

Hannibal hadn’t realized he’d reached out. He hadn’t noticed Will had drawn back. He looked at the sad, desperate gap between their fingers, at his own gloved hand reaching out for Will’s bare one. Heat filled his face and one large drop spilled over his cheek, clearing his vision.

“You’ve helped me, Dr. Lecter,” Will explained patiently to Hannibal’s shoulder, letting him compose himself, “you’ve befriended me, you’ve nurtured me, you’ve used me, and you’ve betrayed me. I have been everything under the sun to you and now you say you love me and expect me to meet that with any kind of response.”

Will took another step, forcing Hannibal to draw himself up tight to keep from touching him. His eyes were harder than diamonds, twice as bright, pinning Hannibal there, holding him in all his discomfort and shame and humility.

“I’m not your lover, Dr. Lecter. I am your friend and your patient and your unwitting confidante. I have been your scapegoat and your victim. Arguably, I am even your accomplice, since I’ve sullied my hands in an attempt to be rid of you. But I am not your lover,” Will’s voice never rose above the space between them, quiet and contained, soft as lambskin.  

“F-Forgive me, Will,” the words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them, breathless and broken.

“That’s alright,” Will breathed slowly and cocked his head, “I think you have better things to be asking forgiveness for. In a minute, I will ask you inside. I will ask you to have a drink before you leave, but when you cross my threshold, you come as my friend, no more, no less.”

Hannibal swallowed, “I cannot take back-”

“So don’t try. Come in,” Will stood away from the door and let Hannibal inside.

“Tea? Coffee? Whiskey?” he walked with measured step to his kitchen.

“Just a glass of water would be sufficient, please,” Hannibal’s shoulders drooped in the doorway.

Will took down a clean glass and walked to the tap, filling it and walking back to him, “Take off your coat, my friends don’t wear their coats indoors.”

Hannibal obediently shirked it off, hanging it on the available coat rack. He sat down limply at the table. For the first time Will could recall, Hannibal looked small, shrunken into the shadow of the room, trying to curl up inside the darkness and disappear.

Hannibal sipped quietly, draining half the glass, then holding onto the rest, clutching at the last safety hold in the world, “I thought that honesty… was better than a sense of omission.”

“You thought wrong,” Will stood on the other side of his kitchen, waiting.

Hannibal looked down at his glass, running it over and over between his hands, “Will you ever forgive me for telling you?” He looked up, for consolation, as if there was any to be had.

“Don’t you think you’ve asked enough of me to be your friend? I think that’s about all I can stand to give you,” Will faced Hannibal pointedly, jaw tight.

Hannibal flinched as if he had been struck. He jumped from the table, jerking it, uncommonly clumsy and rushed in his movements. He banged into the table, the chair, the coat rack almost fell as he grabbed for his coat and flung it back on, tugging at the buttons with frustration that bordered on violence. Every piece of him was cracked, every piece of him was shattering.

Will watched him go, kept his eyes on Hannibal’s, on the dead, hopeless, self-recriminating look in his eyes. Will stayed there, breathing in their almost confessions, until night threatened to become dawn. When his eyelids fell, the tears fell with them. He rubbed a hand over his mouth and tried not to cry. 

Hannibal didn’t deserve crying. But god, he felt like crying anyway.


End file.
